


I Had a Thought, Dear

by grandfatherclock



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Multi, critmas treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandfatherclock/pseuds/grandfatherclock
Summary: Caleb is late for a lesson, but Jester is there with some questions of her own.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast/Essek Thelyss
Comments: 12
Kudos: 97
Collections: Critmas Exchange 2019





	I Had a Thought, Dear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aunt_zelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/gifts).



> The title is from the song _Like Real People Do_ by Hozier.

Jester hums under her breath.

Essik raises his eyebrow curiously. The two of them sit in the living room of the… of the _Xhorhouse_ —and oh, that was a fun conversation with leader of his den. When she asked him over tea one brittle morning, though one could hardly tell from the perpetual and welcoming night sky, how their honoured guests where settling in, Essik went through the laundry list of pleasantries. Right up until she said, curtly, that they apparently where the envy of their district with their glittering tree. And though the name wasn’t very impressive, Essik’s judgement overall honoured the den.

Essik blinked then, and blinked again.

He blinks _now_ , as Jester gives him a serious look. “How long does it take for, you know…” The way her eyes glitter is damned near dangerous. “Start a church in Rosohna?” She says it too casually, and this woman is many impressive things but casual isn’t one of them. Her knee is bouncing just a little too much, and her dress rustles with it. Perhaps she sees him watching it for a moment, because she stills her movement. “Just wondering, you know.” She smiles impishly at him.

She’s holding a notebook, and her quill looks braced to take notes.

It’s… endearing. Essik bites his lower lip and leans forward in his seat. “My lesson with Caleb Widogast,” he says smoothly, “was supposed to be exactly five minutes ago.” He doesn’t want to think about what it means that he’s still here, allowing his valuable time to drip-drip-drip away like the hands of a clock, or the waves softly lapping against the beach.

He’d only been there once, in Nicodranas. The brutal sun was _unbearable_.

“They were supposed to be back from shopping by now. Caleb is _super_ embarrassed, but Nott needs his help buying things for a new alchemy-magicky thing they’re planning.” Jester pouts. “Don’t you want to teach _meeeeeee_?” Her eyebrows wiggle with insinuation, and Essik can’t help but allow this breathless sigh past his lips, this almost-laugh that has Jester’s blue lips cracking into a wider smile. “I’m a really good student, Essik.” She giggles. “I’ll be good.”

“Oh.” Essik shakes his head as he crosses his arms. Her violet eyes are far too knowing, nearly shining from reflecting off the arcane lanterns that light the beautiful interior of their given home. “I’m sure you’re nothing but trouble, Lavorre.” Jester smirks as he says her last name, head tilting as she watches his careful expression, and Essik sighs. “I think you’d agree.”

Jester shrugs, her face deceptively innocent. Her quill is still cocked. “ _Cayleb_ agrees,” she says, and she raises a hand, the pink nail polish gleaming as she runs it through her hair. The blue waves set in along her round face.

Essik’s smile is still for a moment. Ah. Yes. He deeply suspected, but to know… to _know_ is something else entirely. He could just imagine Caleb and Jester holding holds, sharing a chaste first kiss that slowly but surely—they both have chaotic little vibes, don’t they, the two of them?—descending into utter madness, hands in hair and tongue against teeth and knees against crotches.

Essik has never felt more like a stick-in-the-mud as he does right now, watching Jester flush under his gaze. “Congratulations,” he says, and his voice is far too flat. It’s amazing the infatuation one can develop for someone who continually flits in and out of Rosohna, in and out of the entire Dynasty, hardly there enough for more than one conversation before he continues to chase out his destiny with his strange and colourful family.

Part of that is Essik’s fault. If he weren’t always so busy… or, well. Maybe there was nothing he could’ve done. Maybe the seeds of this romance were ripening far beyond anything he could’ve altered with his own time. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

It’s a maddening thing, dunamancy. All he can think about is an Echo, another version of him that wasn’t murmuring, _Congratulations._

“You know,” Jester says, after a moment. She tilts her head, and her hair ripples over one shoulder. The blue contrasts the yellow brilliantly, and he’s reminded again of the brilliant reds and oranges and yellows of the sky as the sun started to sink in past the ocean waves in his optical perception, the blue turning to a purple husk against the heat. It was a beautiful trip, though the Menagerie Coast left much to be desired for any drow. “Just because I won doesn’t mean…” She flushes deeper. “Doesn’t mean you lost.”

Essik wonders if he’s gotten easier to read or if she’s gotten better at looking past his little tricks. “Lost,” he repeats. It’s not a question, he won’t bother to pretend he doesn’t know what this is about.

“Or have to lose,” Jester presses on. “Two people can win, at the same time.” Her eyes widen, and she leans back, this smirk curling on her lips. “Over and over, at the same night. Depending on how good they are.”

“Lavorre,” Essik nearly protests, but his mind is spinning. Two people… she cannot be _serious…_ and oh, traitorous hope. Essik welcomes it back into his heart unenthusiastically. A vision sets in, so clear it’s nearly impossible to keep his straight face. Caleb, with his red hair sprawling against a pillow. Essik’s pillow. Caleb, in Essik’s bed.

“Oh, look,” Jester says, and she sounds pleased. “I taught _you_ something.”

Jester Lavorre, Essik decides, is like the Menagerie Coast. Not meant for him, but fucking radiant. Generous. Beautiful. All-consuming. His head feels a little light. “Balance is what your god espouses, right?” Jester’s eyes widen, and she looks so damned happy Essik remembered. Essik makes a note to himself to remember more, remember more often. “The first step to starting a church in Rosohna is going through the official channels of the den overlooking the city,” he starts, and Jester starts to write, biting her lower lip in concentration. “That den here is Den Kryn…”

Essik thinks they both just might’ve won.


End file.
